Moments Scattered Throughout Time
by Starship Artisan
Summary: 100 Themes Challenge: a series of drabbles/oneshots. Features various characters and pairings.
1. Introduction

A/N: Hello, and welcome to this story!

The other day I got bored and decided that I wanted to try a 100 theme challenge, hence why this was created. It will be updated irregularly, but I will update nonetheless!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own APH.

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**Introduction**

_Every friendship starts with a meeting._

* * *

The wind was blowing lightly that day, ruffling England's clothes. He wasn't bothered by it for he had other matters to attend.

Such as making sure that the French frog didn't get a hold on America before he did. He was desperate, and wanted that boy as his colony—why, he did not know.

Power? Maybe.

Territory? Probably.

Companionship?

...

'_No, never._' England thought to himself, he didn't need friends... He could get along perfectly well on his own. He practically grew up by himself with barely any help from his older brothers, anyway. No matter how much he tried to convince himself of that, he honestly couldn't make himself sincerely believe it. There was the nagging thought in his mind that he was lying to himself.

Regardless, he wanted America.

So when Francis offered food to the young boy, Arthur cursed at not thinking of that sooner. Even if that French slop tasted horrible, the boy probably wouldn't be able to tell. England saw the gleam in the boy's eyes when Franca gave him the food, and so he came up with his own plan to woo the younger nation.

Apparently, his 'soothing' voice wasn't all that soothing; both France and America were afraid of the Englishman now.

'_Great..._' he thought bitterly, now the frog would gain a new French territory and England would go home with nothing...

Arthur sat dejectedly in the grass while he could hear Francis' victorious laughter at winning the young American over. He was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and when he looked up, he was met with bright blue eyes.

And no, they weren't France's.

* * *

"You shouldn't be all alone in the rain."

The young blond girl looked up at the voice, curious as to who was talking to her. She was met with green eyes much like her own, but the man had short blond hair.

"E-E-E-Excuse me?" She stuttered quietly, her high pitched voice sounding relatively lifeless for the normally chipper girl. His mouth remained in a thing and stoic line, but she could tell that he was concerned.

"A young girl like you shouldn't be in the rain like this, and by yourself, too. You could get sick, and then what do you think would happen?" He questioned seriously; she looked up at him innocently, and he could tell that she needed help.

"Here, come with me," he held his hand out, "I can take care of you, and you can be my little sister." She looked at him curiously for a moment, not quite understanding what this deal could entail. Her country was in tatters and she didn't much hope left, but what if he made things worse? She couldn't do that to herself, and most definitely not her people.

Then again, he seemed nice enough. She grasped his hand and he helped her up. He led the way, and together they went home.

Liechtenstein smiled cheerfully, and although he wouldn't admit it, Switzerland was happy, too.

* * *

When Spain was running home that day from Austria's house, he was beaming with excitement. Chants of, "I FINALLY HAVE AN UNDERLING!" could be heard from far and wide, and within good reason. Antonio couldn't believe it; Roderich had been kind enough to give Italy's older brother to him and, to Spain's delight, he could probably work even harder than Feliciano! No more having to do chores all by himself, and he could also have someone to talk to who lived with him. Yes, this would be great!

Antonio opened the door to his house eagerly, and announced that he was home.

Once he looked around, however, his face morphed into an expression of pure shock. The house was a total mess, with chairs and tables flipped over and everything. Then, right in the middle of a flipped table, was a small nation with dark brown hair and an obscure hair curl. Although the child was quite cute, Spain couldn't get over the state of his house while the smaller nation simply snored away. He examined the boy, he did look an awful lot like Italy. Could this be his older brother, Romano?

Soon, the snores stopped and the little boy opened his eyes carefully, blinking at the bright lights on the ceiling. He jumped up when he noticed the Spaniard standing there watching him carefully, and he became defensive.

"Who the hell are you, and what the hell do you want, you bastard!" The younger nation spouted quickly, shocking Antonio out of his thoughts. He smiled widely, and recovered from the strange outburst.

"I am Spain, and you are my servant! I want you to clean this room right now!" Spain said with authority to the small boy, but he only looked at him in disgust.

"Why should I-a listen to you?" Romano said indignantly. Spain looked at him in a dumbstruck manner, but soon recovered.

"Because I am your new boss, so you have to do whatever I say!"

"Fat chance, tomato breath!" Romano yelled back; he turned and ran into another room in the house, and Spain sighed and chased after him.

So much for being his servant.

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A/N: Any thoughts? Please review if you have time.


	2. Complicated

**Disclaimer: **I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Hetalia.

* * *

**Complicated**

_Their relationship is complicated. FranceXEngland._

* * *

When England had just started out as a nation; he was finding out about who he was and found out quickly how the world works. Although he was still small, he learned the simple and basic skills for survival—not necessarily through the hard way, though.

Sadly, his social skills were lacking.

Nations need to have good social skills, as diplomacy was a must. No one could function without allies.

Which is why when he met other nations for the first time, he never knew how to act. He soon learned to take after those who he was with the most. The bad thing was that he was mostly with his brother, Scotland, and even then, it was rare that the redhead would actually acknowledge him. On the rare occasion that he would, things usually didn't turn out very nice for the young Brit.

Naturally, the Scottish man taught his young brother some rather...undesirable traits. The constant swearing and obnoxious behavior rubbed off on the young Englishman, considering that's all that he ever knew. The only nations that he had actually met were his brothers, but he had heard things about other countries and their mannerisms as well as their personalities. Hell, he barely even knew anybodies history aside from his own.

Which is why when he first met France, he was shocked at how he behaved. He was fairly polite, and definitely not as loud and boisterous as Scotland. He seemed like the perfect nation—a model, if you would. One who could conquer all of Europe if he wanted—maybe even the whole world?

So of course England looked up to him at first. He would stare wide eyed at the older nation while he talked, admiring everything about him, and would listen intently to every word. However, he still didn't know how to act around other people, and was still very rude and hostile towards Francis. When the Frenchman saw this, he retorted all the same, sparking anger in the young Brit. He made it his goal to surpass the older blond, and he strived for it.

Even in modern times during World Meetings they would fight, and more often than not, ended up remaining sour towards each other for the rest of the day. But, underneath all of their bickering and arguing, there was a deeper connection. One would not call it love per say, but affection. They fought more like a married couple than stubborn lovers, but they still liked each other nonetheless.

All in all, their relationship is _very_ complicated.


	3. Making History

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Hetalia, I would probably be rich, which I certainly am not.

* * *

**Making History**

_Feliciano didn't want to be the cause of his downfall. HREXChibitalia._

* * *

"Join me, and then together we can become one of the greatest countries on earth!" The little boy went on, his eyes glistening with passion and determination that made the young Italian's heart break. Even though he would deny his request, Holy Rome would ask again, trying to change his mind. Those eyes always burned with a passion that Italy knew was that of power and of love.

Those eyes, they reminded him of Grandpa Rome before he became too powerful and fell.

The simple thought of his dead grandfather made his eyes fill up with tears and he started to sniffle, causing the blond boy to pause and regard him with scrutiny. Italy gulped down the tears and started to speak and shake his head.

"No… I can't…"

"Why not!" The boy asked with a flash of anger that made the young Italian stiffen. Thoughts were revolving around Italy's mind, trying to decide whether he should finally tell Holy Rome the reason why. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that the boy _needed_ to hear it before he dug himself into a deep hole.

"I don't want you to become like Grandpa Rome!" The young Italian shouted, leaving the Holy Roman Empire to look at him with wide eyes.

"What…" He said quietly, eyes still wide and staring into Italy's brown eyes, "Why…?"

"He became too powerful and fell! He had so many scars, and I don't want that to happen to you, too!" The Italian boy cried, and Holy Rome's features turned into that of understanding. He was still irritated and not wanting to listen to the young boy's wailing, mostly because he thought that he could pull it off and become _better _then the great Roman Empire.

It was a very vivid and unrealistic dream—Holy Rome knew this, however, he thought that he was capable of pulling it off, but he wanted Italy at his side to help him.

"That won't happen to me…" Holy Rome tried to reassure, but Italy would not listen.

"Yes it will! I'm not going to join you and make it happen!" He continued to cry, making Holy Rome go rigid.

_He would never help me; he would leave me by myself—_

He shook his head to dispel these thoughts. He hadn't a doubt that Italy loved him back, but…

If he really did, then he would join him, wouldn't he? He just wanted to be powerful, to make people remember; to create history.

A history with Italy.

It seemed as if this wouldn't occur, though, and Holy Rome grew sad. He turned around quickly, shedding tears of his own as he ran away. Italy looked up and watched him, feeling guilty, but still knowing that he made the right decision in not helping him. At least, that's what his gut was telling him—even then, though, there was nagging thought that no matter what he did, Holy Rome would fall.

"Holy Rome… Come back…"


	4. Rivalry

A/N: This one was inspired by the comic called Smackdown by Arkham Insanity (Look her up on DeviantART, she is awesome).

This is definitely a crack chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own APH.

* * *

**Rivalry**

_One could call it 'friendly' rivalry…_

* * *

Once upon a time, in the event known as a "World Meeting" various personifications of nations sat at the large wooden table, discussing global issues and solving the world's problems with ease.

Or at least, that's what was supposed to happen. In reality, the meeting starts with America's usual talk about global warming and how he will create robots or get superheroes to fix it, and then England would yell at him to shut up and be serious, and then France would interject and the three of them would continue until Germany finally yelled at them.

This time, however, was different.

For some reason, Germany was absent, meaning that there was no one to keep order. This, of course, is a very bad thing. The weird part is that although Ludwig isn't there, Gilbert was. Immediately, someone began to question him.

"Prussia, what are _you _doing here? Where the bloody hell is your brother?" England said with irritation; he glares daggers into the albino's head, but he doesn't seem to notice—and if he does, he makes no indication.

"West is a little…_tied_ up at the moment, kesesesese~"

"What do you mean by that! He should not miss a world meeting because he is supposedly 'busy'. What on earth could he _possibly _be doing?"

"He's…sick…"

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Germany, Ludwig got a bad feeling…and it no, it isn't because his muscles are cramping from being thrown, tied up, and locked in a tiny broom closet by his older brother before the meeting. He almost had a sixth sense, one that can detect when his brother is up to no good (although why it didn't work this morning, he did not know).

Regardless, there isn't much that he can do in his current state.

When his brother gets home, there will be hell to pay.

* * *

"Yeah… You know how the economy is doing right now… He asked me to represent his country for him since I am so awesome and, being the awesome big brother that I am, I dropped everything to help poor little Luddy!" Gilbert explained dramatically; most of the other nations at the meeting looked at him in disappointment; they obviously didn't buy it.

_Most_ of them didn't believe him.

"Ve~ Germany is sick? He was fine yesterday—"

"ANYWAY Italy, be quiet! We're trying to have a meeting here!"

"Okay dudes! I have the perfect idea to combat global warming! What we'll do is send up a superhero to the atmosphere and fix the large hole in the ozone layer!" Every nation in the room sighed at the American's usual antics, but he kept going on and on about the idea until, finally, England argued with him.

"Shut up, America. That idea is ridiculous and is almost as stupid as when you thought that if you put a whole pack of Mentos into a bottle of Coke that it would blast off to the moon!"

"It will happen! I just have to find a big enough bottle of Coke…" After this, the two continued to bicker, and without having Germany there to stop it, they continued on until more of the usual occurrences occurred.

But, when France finally interjected, things evolved and took an interesting turn as more of the nations joined the argument and became involved in the free for all. Which is why seeing numerous rival nations wage fights was not surprising…

Let's just say, that England was trying to fend off both France and Spain who had pulled out swords (from God knows where) and were fighting together against him. Meanwhile, Denmark and Sweden were involved in a staring/glaring contest; they glared at each other from across the table, and the Dane was shouting various vulgar insults while the Swedish man was silent towards him. Turkey and Greece were throwing insults back and forth relentlessly, and Turkey was close to punching the Greek in the face.

In another part of the room, Prussia was yelling at Russia who was trying to convince him to become one with him; the albino ended up hiding behind Hungary who had her frying pain at her disposal. Even Canada was getting fed up with listening to his brother and let out a string of curses which shocked the American, but not because his brother was swearing, but because he had just snuck up on him.

"Whoa, Mattie! When did you get here, bro?"

"I've been here this whole time!" The Canadian shouted—yes, _shouted_.

After settling down and getting away from the Russian, Gilbert leaned back in his chair and admired his work.

"Mission accomplished."

He soon regretted those words when Elizabeta came up and smacked him upside the head with her trusty frying pan.

* * *

A/N: Gosh, I enjoyed writing this one in the middle of my French class…

Please review if you have the time ^.^


	5. Unbreakable

A/N: This one is darker than the other ones so far, so if you aren't one for blood, foul language, and violence, I would suggest not reading this. Also, timeline for this chapter is post WWII-Cold War era with the Berlin Wall.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.

* * *

**Unbreakable**

_They say that he was unbreakable, but Ivan wanted to challenge that._

* * *

The first day, he was loud.

"Do your worst, I can take whatever you throw at me with my awesomeness!"

So, so loud.

"What? Is that all that you can do?"

Ivan wished that he would just shut up.

"You call that punch? A little girl could hit harder than you!"

If only he would stop talking…

"Wow, Russia is so weak!"

He started to sing.

"_Russia hits like a girl~_"

And then he would continue to taunt.

"Was that supposed to hurt?"

Then, he would throw this weight around.

"I bet I could conquer you within five seconds!"

…And kept boasting.

"You cannot compare to my awesomeness!"

He even did impressions.

"_Oh, look at me, I'm mean Mr. Russia and I can't even kill a bug! Vodkaaaa!_"

He was so annoying.

"_Lalalalala~ Russia is a weakling~_"

How he wish that he could obliterate that arrogant smirk…

"Hey, guess what? You suck, and I am awesome!"

He imagines how much fun it would be to break his soul.

"You want to know how to spell awesome? P-R-U-S-S-I-A! Kesesese!"

And if he doesn't shut up…

"Is something wrong? Are you angry that I am so much more awesome than you?"

…He just might.

* * *

The second day, he was threatening.

"Let me go you damn communist!"

He didn't know what was worse: his threats or his attitude.

"Just wait; I will crush you and your vital regions!"

Ivan found it almost funny.

"When I get out, I will make you bow down before me and my awesomeness!"

His empty threats were entertaining.

"You could never win in a fight against me!"

Especially when he sounded more like he was talking to himself.

"I am the best, and I will not lose…"

Eventually, his voice got quieter.

"I will show you, Russia…"

And quieter…

"You'll see…"

Until all he heard were mumbles.

* * *

A week later, and he was still going.

Two weeks later, and he was still going.

Two months later, and he was still going.

Even after six months; he was still going.

Ivan needed a plan, and fast. He couldn't take the Prussian's excessive whining and boasts day after day… It was starting to wear on what he thought was his patient attitude.

He thought long and hard about what he could do, but still couldn't find a solution to his problem. Part of him told him to just beat the bastard until he couldn't even move—much less talk—and another voice told him to just stop talking to the albino altogether, or maybe just stop giving him food until he learned to behave.

But no, he didn't want to kill him. He just wanted to shut him up and break his spirits so that he wouldn't even want to go home, so that he would realize that this place _was_ his home. There would be nothing more enjoyable than seeing the loud and obnoxious ex-nation groveling at his feet; crushed and quiet. Yet, he had no idea how to do it. He was Russia, and he could break people as if it was child's play. Gilbert was strong; he had almost like a force field of self confidence that protected him. Even then, there had to be _something_ that could shatter the barrier…

Although Ivan wouldn't admit it, he was jealous. Even though Gilbert was annoying as hell and swore like a sailor, people liked him even though he has done plenty of horrible things in his lifetime. In fact, it didn't make sense as to why people didn't like Russia yet they adored Prussia. He had friends like Antonio and Francis, and people like his brother who were his family, and people like Roderich and Elizabeta who were _like_ his family. All that Ivan had is the Baltics which, he would admit, were forced to stay with him, and his sister's. One of which was reluctant to stay with him even though she was his older sister, and the other was obsessed with him to the point of it being unhealthy.

The thought of Gilbert being better than him made Ivan's fist shake with anger and his gaze darkened at the door before him. He opened it quietly, and noticed that Gilbert was fast asleep and curled on the cold ground. To wake him up, he slammed the door with a large amount of force, causing the albino to jump in surprise and look around rapidly. Soon, his eyes found the large nation and his eyes narrowed into a glare.

"Look at who finally decided to show up! Took you long enough, were you too busy crying over how I am so awesome and you are not?"

Ivan sighed at the usual insult; he swore, if he used the word 'awesome' one more time then he would—

"Awwww, did I hurt poor Ivan's feelings? You only wish that you could be as _awesome_ as—"

Within an instant, Russia pinned the ex-nation to the wall by his throat, stopping his stream of insults and boasting. Gilbert choked and gasped for air at the sudden attack; he clawed at Ivan's arm, silently begging for him to let go. Ivan gave into his request and dropped the Prussian, causing him to fall to the cold stone floor, all the while gasping for breath.

Yet even so, he still went on.

"What the fuck was that for, you fucking Commie?" He shouted angrily, causing Ivan to frown. Even being beaten and bleeding didn't break the albino's resolve, and Ivan really didn't know what to try next.

Although, what Gilbert said next gave him an idea.

"As soon as I get out of here and go home, I'll come back with my brother and we will kick your ass into next year!" Prussia shouted at him, crawling backwards, but only to be met with the cold wall behind him. The Russian smirked as the idea dawned on him.

"What home? This is your home now. I doubt that your brother would take a worthless scum like you back, and you aren't even a nation anymore." Prussia was about to protest until the words sunk in and he looked up at the Russian in shock. He tried to tell him that it was a lie, that he was only trying to upset him, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth—much less form on his tongue. Being speechless, he gaped at the larger nation, and a cry began to tear from his throat.

"No! You're wrong! West is waiting for me, I know it!"

Russia shook his head mockingly, "Don't be stupid, Gilbert. Why would he want you? It's not like you're of any use to him, so why would he waste any of his time with a stubborn and stupid waste of space?"

"If it wasn't for me, then he wouldn't be who he is! He's my brother!"

Russia started to chuckle darkly as he continued to belittle the Prussian, all the while playing with the lead pipe in his hand. "That's funny, so if it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be so torn apart by war, beaten to a bloody pulp, and miserable right now… So, I guess that it was all _your_ fault, right? No wonder he hates you; I can't say that I was surprised when he practically handed you to me."

"What are you talking about? He didn't do that!" Gilbert yelled loudly, fists trembling as his crimson red eyes started to fill with rage. He wound up to punch the large Russian in the gut, but Ivan quickly intercepted, caught his wrist, and twisted it behind his back; causing Prussia to yelp in pain. He brought him to stand up, and knocked his face into the wall while he whispered harshly in his ear.

"If your brother really did care then you wouldn't be here," he hissed, "quit resisting and accept it; he isn't coming back for you."

"No… You're wrong…" He replied weakly. His resolve shattered as his body began to rack with sobs against the wall, and Russia simply smiled in victory. He let go of the ex-nation, allowing him to sink to the floor. He had found his weak spot, and planned to exploit it to the upmost extent.

"Learn your place, Gilbert. You should be grateful that I am accepting you into my family and giving you a place to live. Without me, you would have died." Ivan snarled to the nation on the floor. When Prussia didn't reply, he gave him a swift kick to the stomach, causing him to double over in pain, and the Russian left the room.

* * *

Every day after that, he was silent.

…But even then, Russia still felt that something wasn't right.

The albino would sit up against the wall, staring blankly at the other side of the dark room and not uttering a word. Ivan tried to get him to speak, but Gilbert would remain silent—one could easily mistake him for a mute. He seemed dead to the world, those once lively and fiery crimson eyes were now dull and lifeless. Despite being annoyed at his attitude, Ivan did actually care about Gilbert. Seeing him act different worried him, and he didn't know how he could fix it.

The albino was broken, but Russia didn't think that he would have taken his words to heart; he just wanted him to stop all of the annoying chatter and accept that he was stuck here. In his mind, Russia couldn't see the problem with that.

He stood in front of Gilbert, looking down on him carefully. He remained the same, still staring ahead and seemingly not noticing the larger nation standing in front of him. "Gilbert?" He questioned like he had many times before, and got the same response: silence. Usually, whenever the Russian called him by his human name, he would yell and scream at him in protest.

Russia frowned at the lack of a reaction, and instead prodded at him with his lead pipe gently, to which the albino still didn't react. It made Ivan feel angry that he wouldn't even move anymore—wouldn't even _try_ to resist because secretly, the Russian found his antics entertaining—and this caused him to press the pipe harder into his arm. His anger was rising; his features grew sharper and eyes got darker.

Instead of striking him again, he paused and watched the ex-nation carefully, decided that there was no point in trying to fix Gilbert's broken mind. He had tried, really, he had. But, since Prussia didn't seem to be putting in _any_ effort on his part, then why should he continue to try… Seeing no other option, he decided that there was no point trying to fix something that was already so obviously broken. Figuring that he may as well have some fun with Gilbert, Ivan decided to simply fill his head with more lies and words of despair.

This happens far more frequently than one would think.

"Your brother is dead now, you know." Russian said nonchalantly. At this, Prussia's eyes widened and his head snapped up at the Russian's in shock. Ivan smirked, "It's all because you weren't there to protect him. You failed, Gilbert." He left it at that, and swiftly left the room, leaving the broken man on the ground.

Someone seemingly unbreakable as now dead to the world, and Russia had never felt better.

At least, that's what he told himself.

* * *

A/N: I honestly love this one once I went through and edited it.

Thank you for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed it as well! Reviews are much appreciated.


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